


The man behind the curtain

by ravenbringslight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Jötunn Loki, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight
Summary: Loki, youngest prince of Jotunheim, has grown up being told from birth what a hideous monster he is. He believes it.Thor doesn't.





	The man behind the curtain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bukimin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukimin/gifts).



> This story is based on [this artwork](http://virushoney.tumblr.com/post/162326057612/why-is-there-a-cloth-over-lokis-face) and [this prompt](http://virushoney.tumblr.com/post/162327765752/oh-no-loki-was-always-treated-as-a-monster-in) of Loki with a veil on his face.

Loki sat across from the Asgardian prince and tried not to fidget. Thor’s solar was comfortably if not extravagantly appointed and Loki ran one surreptitious hand along the velvet of the cushion he was sitting on. Yes, very comfortable. Unfortunately, the state of the decor did not match the state of Loki’s mind. He was here on a diplomatic mission of the highest importance and it was going to require delicacy, tact, and no small amount of luck.

He adjusted his veil for something to do with his hands and waited for Thor to speak.

“Are you sure you do not wish to remove your -” Thor gestured with one hand.

“No,” Loki said shortly.

“It is only that - I confess I have never discussed peace negotiations with someone whose face I cannot read,” Thor said, quite forwardly Loki thought. “Can you even see?”

“I can see perfectly adequately,” Loki said crisply. “And the veil stays. Please do not speak of it further. Can we move onto the negotiations please?”

Loki felt a vaguely queasy ribbon curl inside his stomach. He never removed his veil, and at home his status was such that no one commented upon it. In fact, sometimes he could forget he was even wearing it for several minutes at a time.

Not that he could ever remove it.

His defect was simply too hideous to inflict upon polite society.

And here was this absolute boor of an Asgardian, bringing it up first thing and so rudely. Loki tried to quash his rising annoyance.

“Of course, forgive me,” Thor said in a conciliatory tone.

“Hmm.” Loki shook his bracelets down to cover his wrists and crossed them delicately over one knee. “Shall we continue, then?”

Their talk moved to more important matters but as one hour turned into two Loki found his mind wandering. He realized that what he had at first taken for a lack of manners was actually an open honesty and refusal to dissemble. While he found it off-putting at first, as their talks progressed he came to appreciate the straightforwardness of Thor’s approach. He also noted with growing alarm that he was starting to actually *laugh* at the Asgardian’s jokes.

Servants brought refreshments and Loki politely waved them off. There was simply no way to discreetly eat and not reveal the horror of his countenance. Thor, on the other hand, ate and drank with gusto and Loki watched in awe as in one sitting he packed away enough food that it could have sustained Loki for three days. He supposed that all that muscle mass had to come from somewhere. There was...well, quite a lot of it. He eyed Thor’s bicep. Quite a lot.

By the end of the day he was at ease as he’d ever been, even going so far as to stretch out on the couch and lean his head on one hand to watch, amused, as Thor paced animatedly around the room.

“I think these negotiations will be most fruitful,” Thor said enthusiastically. “I admit that I was cautious when my father told me I was to treat with Jotunheim’s youngest prince, but I find your company...most agreeable.”

“I as well,” Loki said, a little shyly; he still was not used to such candor but he thought he ought to try and match Thor’s heartfelt sincerity. He even meant it.

“I shall see you for the rest of the week then? I think we have at least a few more days’ work ahead of us.”

“Yes. Starting with tomorrow,” Loki agreed, rising and adjusting his veil, smoothing his skirt. “Prince Thor.”

“Prince Loki.”

*

When Loki returned the next morning, Thor was standing by his desk frowning at a paper, but when he looked up at Loki he broke into a smile that lit his whole face. Loki felt himself blush and was grateful for the concealment of his veil. Honestly.

On the third day they kept going off topic no matter how they tried to keep their minds on the work in front of them. Thor's rich voice meandered through stories of his misspent youth, telling Loki of long summer days spent in Asgard’s golden orchards, of touring the nine realms and the ridiculous antics that he and his companions would get up to. Loki told him of tales of his own, of life spent in Jotunheim’s court as its resident outcast (he joked but the undercurrent of bitterness was always there lurking), of watching the mammoth migrations in the north and the singing crystal plains of the east.

Talking about himself was not something that Loki usually did but Thor encouraged him with his own openness and his smiles, his obvious unfeigned interest, and Loki found himself willing to share just to chase the feeling of intimacy that was developing between them.

Sometimes Thor's eyes looked sad, and Loki could see the way he tried not to stare at the veil, but he never brought it up again.

By the fourth day, Loki actually rose from bed early, eager to begin his daily session with Thor. It was surprising how well they got on together. The court at home was unfailingly courteous, but Loki did not ever think he could call any of them friend. Thor, though…

Trade negotiations and treaties were one thing and Loki had been trained in their art since he was old enough to read. This, however, was uncharted territory.

“There you are,” Thor said warmly. “Good morning! I hope that today we can finish before lunch. And then if it pleases you, I’d like to show you around the gardens. I remember yesterday you mentioned that Jotunheim doesn’t have many flowers and I thought you might like to see some.”

“Oh. I. Thank you,” Loki said in surprise. “That would be quite lovely.”

The nebulous happy feeling he'd been having in Thor's presence suddenly crystallized. This was dangerous. He was starting to *have feelings* for Thor. And if he was not mistaken, Thor was starting to have feelings for him. Unconsciously he smoothed his veil over his face. No, he could not afford to let this happen. Sooner or later Thor would ask to see his face and then the whole thing would be over. Loki would need to finish the negotiations and then he would see the flowers and he’d be politely distant and then tomorrow he would leave and that would be that.

But as they finished hammering out the last details of what was shaping up to be a very satisfactory treaty, Loki felt Thor’s eyes on him more and more and the way they seemed to look straight into his very being made him feel warm and lightheaded. He didn’t want to be politely distant.

No one had ever looked at him like that before.

Like they were seeing him and not his title, not his deformity.

He wanted Thor to keep looking at him like that. He had a vision of touching Thor’s hand, running his fingers up that golden arm all the way to that broad shoulder, seeing what that lion’s mane felt like against his skin, whispering things in his ear to spread a blush on those pink cheeks.

But it was too much to ask.

Loki was doomed to be celibate for life. No one could be expected to look past what he was. He’d come to terms with it long ago so he was surprised at the strength of the *want* he felt now when he looked upon the Asgardian.

“Freak” was the usual insult that had been lobbed his way as a child. “Monster.” Those were the nice ones. No one had openly insulted him in years, not since he came of age and took to covering his face, for it was madness to say such things directly to a prince, but he could see it anyway in their subtly averted eyes and their careful whispers behind spread hands.

In a way the veil was a blessing, for it let him look at others with impunity while they could see nothing of him. He could fully take in the way that they tried to *not* fully take him in.

“I will let you retire to your own chambers for lunch,” Thor said. “I noticed you haven't been eating and at first I thought perhaps it was a custom but then I realized I have just been incredibly rude. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or make you go hungry. When you’re done have your page bring you to me and we can see the gardens.”

Loki didn’t bother to tell him that the candor of the statement itself made him uncomfortable. Thor was trying so hard in his forthright way and his concern was touching.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “I appreciate the consideration.”

“Til later then.” Thor offered his hand to help Loki rise from the divan and then pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

Loki felt a warm flutter in his stomach.

“You are very forward,” he said before he could catch himself.

“I do believe that’s a well known failing of mine,” Thor grinned. “Do you mind?”

“Not as much as I should.” Loki failed to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Til later, then.”

Servants brought him food on platters in his own guest chambers and he dismissed them that he might eat alone without fear of alarming anyone.

He reached up and carefully unhooked the veil from where it was fastened to his horns. He folded it neatly and laid it next to his plate. It was an odd feeling removing it. So much of his life was spent living behind it that he felt more naked than if he had actually disrobed.

As he nibbled on the foreign food he found himself wondering what it would feel like to be able to live without the veil. What it would feel like to have the sun caress his face openly, the wind brush his cheeks. To rub against the soft velvet of Thor’s divan or the roughness of his beard -

Angrily, he slammed his goblet on the table so hard that wine sloshed over the side and narrowly missed ruining the damnable scrap of fabric. Thoughts like this were folly at best. He’d given up on them long ago. Who did this Asgardian prince think he was, coming in and disrupting Loki’s equilibrium like this?

He should beg off this afternoon. He was sure he could claim a headache or heat exhaustion and no one would fault him for it.

His hand clenched into a fist on the table and he stared at it, remembering Thor’s lips grazing his knuckles.

Norns, he was weak.

Thor was waiting for him in the hallway, illuminated in a slant of sunlight thrown against the wall from one of the high windows. It turned his hair into a gleaming corona and made his eyes look lit from within and Loki felt his breath catch. He felt suddenly lightheaded.

It was only etiquette borne of centuries of lessons and the instinct to put one foot in front of the other that kept him going instead of turning and fleeing.

Thor smiled, all white teeth and happy eye crinkles, and offered his arm. It was shocking, really, at how pathetically moonstruck Loki felt to be smiled at like that. And Thor was so *Thor* that he knew the smile was genuine. Loki tried to remember the last time someone had smiled at him with actual joy like that, really, truly, and he came up empty. 

He stared at Thor’s proffered elbow for a moment. Oh what a double edged sword. On the one hand, Loki was afraid that without it he might fall, but on the other the proximity itself might do him in first.

He was never more grateful to have his face hidden.

The palace gardens turned out to be quite lovely and Loki took them in with the appropriate oohs and ahs, but afterwards he could not have recounted the name of a single flower. What he could have recounted instead was Thor's hand on his arm, hot as a live coal, Thor's breath in his ear sending shivers into his belly as he pointed out features of the garden, the fondness in Thor's voice as he spoke of his mother and how she had planned the entire layout.

“I think you would like her,” Thor said.

“Your mother?”

“Yes. You both have the same edge to you, but concealing a tender heart within.”

“What do you know of my heart?” Loki said lightly. He pulled away to lean on the railing of the ornamental bridge they were standing on. A small stream flowed cheerfully underneath it, bubbling quietly to itself.

“I have seen the consideration you've given even the lowest of your citizens,” Thor said, coming up next to him and gazing down into the water. “A heartless person would never have crafted the treaty that you and I did.”

Loki smiled behind his veil.

“Are you smiling?” Thor asked.

“How did you know?” Loki said, surprised.

“Here.” Thor reached out to gently brush his fingers against the edge of Loki's ear. “When you smile your ears pull back just slightly.”

Suddenly flushed, Loki turned away and fussed with his veil.

“I'm sorry,” Thor said. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You should not be so forward,” Loki said tightly. He felt tears prick his eyes. He wanted this, so much. Wanted Thor. But it was impossible.

The thought that Thor might see his monstrous form filled him with dread. Thor looked at him now with such warmth in his eyes, such happiness, and Loki knew that the second Thor saw his true face that he would never get to see that look again. He could feel the loss already, an ache behind his ribcage.

How cruel to have such riches offered him only to have them snatched away.

“What's wrong?” Thor asked, stepping up behind him and putting his hands on Loki's shoulders. “I know that that is not what you mean.”

Loki turned his head to the side.

“How can you know such a thing,” he said softly.

“Because I see you. I see your body say one thing and your mouth another, and in all my years as a warrior I know which I have always trusted more.”

A shudder passed through Loki, a spasm like a sudden chill. Thor's hands burned hotter than a brazier.

“I wish to know you better,” Thor said. “I wish you to prolong your stay in Asgard and let me show you my home. I wish to hear your beautiful voice and take you dancing and make you laugh and sing and -”

“Stop,” Loki said, strained, struggling to breathe properly. His hand reached up of its own accord to cover one of Thor's. “I cannot. Please.” His breath felt stifling under its cloth. He had the sudden mad urge to rip it away, drive Thor off and end this.

“Why? Do you not feel the same way?”

“I do.” Damn him. Loki had never been this honest in his life.

“Is it this?”

The hand Loki wasn't holding reached up and Thor ran one soft finger down the edge of the veil where it lay against Loki's cheek.

“Yesss,” Loki hissed. “Please.” Thor's touch on his face was wonderful; it was agonizing.

“Whatever you're hiding it doesn't matter to me,” Thor murmured.

And then - *Norns* - Loki felt the soft scratch of whiskers as Thor placed a warm kiss right where his fingers had just been.

It was too much; Loki couldn't breathe, he was suffocating.

“Let me go,” he gasped, “I need to go, please -” and he wrenched out of Thor's grasp and took one faltering step away and drew up short at the long, horrible, drawn out sound of fabric ripping. It lasted for days, years, eternities, an endless stretched-out moment that was over in an instant.

Loki felt the sun and the air on his forehead, on his lips, and he collapsed to the ground with a wail, frantically covering his face with both hands. His heart beat so loudly in his ears he couldn't even understand what Thor was saying. 

He should snatch the veil away, mend it best he could with magic, demand that Thor turn his back so Loki could hide his shame.

A strange calm stole over him.

No.

It had all gone so horribly wrong. Everything was over now, almost before it had begun. Probably best this way. Less time to get his hopes up, less time to become invested in what could never be. He should own this. Stop hiding like a child.

He felt Thor hovering behind him, saw the shadow his broad frame threw stretching out before him on the bridge, covering Loki completely.

Slowly, he lowered his trembling hands and clasped them tightly in his lap to keep them from shaking.

“Please forgive me,” Thor said. “It caught on my vambrace, I did not mean -”

“It's alright,” Loki said calmly, pleased at the way his voice didn't quake at all.

“I'll turn my back.”

“No. No. You should see.”

“Loki, I -”

“Come look.”

Loki screwed his eyes shut and clenched his hands more tightly in his lap. He heard Thor's footsteps move around him and come to a stop. Everything was silence except for the gurgling of the stream and the distant sound of bird song and in the unbearable quiet Loki counted his own heartbeats. How many did he have left before it broke?

He'd thought himself stronger than this. He'd thought he’d left this insecurity behind two centuries ago. He was not used to being so wrong, so weak.

Thor hadn't run. Or said anything. Or even moved at all.

Carefully, Loki forced his eyes open, first the smallest slit, sunlight through his lashes; then wider, giving himself a moment to adjust to how much brighter it was without the veil obscuring his vision. He was staring at the tips of Thor's boots.

He kept waiting for something, anything, an accusation, a cry of disgust, an insult. He'd heard them all before and more, like the face he had been born with was somehow both his fault and personally insulting to anyone who might happen to look upon it.

Loki remembered the way Thor had looked at him that morning and the thought that he would never see it again made his shoulders heave as he choked on a sob.

The anticipation wasn’t bearable any longer. He lifted his chin and flung his gaze upwards to Thor's face, terrified at what he would see there but needing to know.

Thor was studying him as seriously as a painting. His brows were drawn up in what Loki could only call puzzlement. Loki blinked rapidly through suddenly watery eyes, feeling like an insect in a jar, a curio on display at a grotesquerie.

“I don’t understand,” Thor said finally. He dropped to a crouch and Loki dropped his eyes to his lap again.

“Don’t understand what? How nature could have crafted such a freak?”

“I don’t understand,” Thor said again, seemingly at a loss for words.

“It was not enough that I was born a runt and seidr-sensitive, but to also be given such a face…” Loki could speak no longer through the tightness of his throat. It was over now. It was done. Thor would leave and Loki would go home never having tasted the feast he had just been able to glimpse.

“Are you…”

“I’m sorry,” Loki whispered.

“You’re serious.”

“Just go.”

“Look at me.”

“Please.”

“Loki. Look at me.”

A gentle touch on his chin made him flinch, but he let Thor draw his chin up to finally look unimpeded into those earnest blue eyes.

“You -” Thor inhaled deeply. “Yours is the loveliest face I’ve ever seen.”

Oh. No.

Disgust he could understand, he was ready for that, politely concealed disgust even, but mockery such as this? It was too much to be borne.

“Don’t,” Loki said, sharp and curt. “Do not mock me.” He felt that ache behind his ribcage again, the feeling of pent up rage and sorrow and inadequacy.

“It is no mockery.”

“Of all people, I never expected *you* to lie to me,” Loki said shakily. “Perhaps we Jotnar all look alike to you, but I look absolutely *nothing* like the rest of my people, I am a *freak*, and no one has ever let me forget that, not even for one second of my entire miserable -”

He was cut off mid rant by the shock of Thor’s lips on his own.

“You’re beautiful,” Thor said. He put his hands on Loki’s cheeks and kissed him again. “Beautiful.” He kept going, kissing each part of Loki’s face, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, the corner of his mouth, each eyelid, the middle of his forehead, and after each one he murmured “beautiful” until Loki felt something inside him break and he began weeping openly, tears streaming down his face, and Thor kissed those too.

“What have you done to me?” Loki demanded thickly. “How have you unmade me so quickly and completely?”

Thor gathered him against his chest and gratefully Loki buried his face there. He felt Thor’s hand stroking his hair and he pressed his face in harder.

“Stay here awhile longer,” Thor said. Loki felt the reverberations of his voice through his chest, rich and deep. “There is no need to go back to Jotunheim so quickly. Stay here with me. Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

“If this is some kind of jest you may as well just dash me apart with your hammer right here and now.”

“It is no jest. Stay.”

Loki closed his eyes and nodded and he felt Thor’s arms tighten around him.

“Very well.”

Thor pulled back to look at him, and instinctively Loki turned his face away, covering it with one hand and closing his eyes. Gently, Thor interlaced their fingers and pulled his hand away and pressed a long kiss to his temple.

“Is this what you wish as well?”

“Yess,” Loki said, a sibilant drawn out sound. A heat was spreading in his belly. “But it is...difficult.”

“I understand.”

“Could I have my veil back, please?”

“Of course.”

They walked arm in arm back to the palace. Loki retired to his rooms and penned a note to his father informing him that he would send the rest of his retinue back with the treaty but that he himself would be staying in Asgard for several more weeks.

His veil lay on the table next to the letter. He brushed the feathered end of the quill along his cheek, remembering the path of Thor’s lips on it.

Yes, several more weeks.

Or, maybe, even longer than that.

He smiled.


End file.
